


Little Miracles

by FlyawaySoul



Series: The Road to Peace [2]
Category: D&D - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Based on D&D campaign, Biting, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Emotional Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Moonshadow elf, Multiple Orgasms, Obyrith, Oh boy this one was a doozy, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Romance, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Teasing, more fluff than porn this time around, sexual gymnastics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyawaySoul/pseuds/FlyawaySoul
Summary: He knew what embracing was, of course, but he had only ever embraced others or been embraced by others when in the throes of sex. It was a vulnerable position for both of them, but it was warm. And she was soft. And her grip held him together just as much as it held him to her, giving him a moment, just a single moment, to relinquish that responsibility for himself. The air left his lungs in a long breath with the strain of it all as she held the world up for him. Lorkhan didn’t know when his arms had wrapped themselves around her waist, or when his knee had hit the packed, damp dirt at their feet, but he found himself kneeling before her, vulnerable and content, relishing in the simple embrace as he hadn’t with anyone before. It was good.
Relationships: Alaysia/Lorkhan, Elf/Demon - Relationship, Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Series: The Road to Peace [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709749
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I'm back again with Alaysia and Lorkhan. Some important things to note is that our DM introduced homebrew moonshadow and sunfire elves into his campaign because he fell in love with the dragon prince. Alaysia is apparently a moonshadow elf, as per his giving all of our little demigod characters powers we want but don't need. Another thing is that by this time in the story, Alaysia has weaseled herself into having a 22 in dexterity, which is supposed to be beyond the scope of what is considered possible for humanoids (max being 20). That's okay, though, because Lorkhan has had a 29 in strength since the beginning of this campaign. ALSO, Lump is an Alehouse drake that Alaysia adopted. He's basically Seth Rogan if he was a flying, alcoholic iguana. You can find the stat block and description of them in the _Tome of Beasts ___  
> This chapter takes place about 4-6 months or so after the first.

His head hurt. It always hurt these days. There had been so much death. _So much death_. And the curse. Gods, what was he going to do about the curse? His people were dropping like flies and then coming back, over and over with a hole burned into their bodies, slowly going insane. It made them weak. Fire staved off the worst of it, sure, but it didn’t stave off the starvation that came with sheltering what was once a great nation in the jungle. She had told him that the road to a new, safe land on what she called her “old continent” would be a hard one, but that there was a place for him and his kingdom of Tieflings. He couldn’t have prepared for this. 

“ _I cannot tell you that people will not fear you all for what you are, or that they won’t whisper behind your backs, but there are no demon crossings there and by the time they notice you over the civil war and the hobgoblin host, you should have time to establish yourselves._ ” She was honest, brutally so. Because of that, Lorkhan could not fault her for the situation he was in, but he was running out of time. 

She’d offered a temporary haven for him and those who followed him in the abandoned city of Alys’Myra. Another king she ‘accidentally helped’ had vacated the area recently and while it was wartorn from a battle that she had taken part in there, it would have housed them. That alone would have solved two of his three biggest problems immediately if the kingdoms around him would just let him through. Instead, they had caged him here, hoping to choke them out with starvation and the perils of the jungle. His people were hardy desert survivors by nature, but hunger is the type of predator that one cannot outrun. The physical predators picked off the others. And then, of course, there was the curse. 

He sighed heavily at the thought and rubbed the space under his small, devilish horns. Flicking his eyes to the side, he gazed at the stone on his desk. The beige and red of his tent cast the smooth gray surface in warm tones, but the stone did not respond. No matter how much he willed it to, it remained still and silent. The Little-Elf, Alaysia, had told him that she would come if he needed her, bringing her vagabond group of heroes with her. 

Well, perhaps they weren’t so much vagabonds anymore. They had begun to make quite a name for themselves. Igran Drastix. It had no meaning. They were just nonsense words, but perhaps that was a stroke of genius. When the name was spoken about in jubilant whispers or revering tones, there was no mistaking who it was. 

But still, he had to wonder. What did she gain from this? He rubbed the area on his chest where his own charred ring of nothingness ached. He was not exempt from the curse. But why was she helping him? A stray lay in a tavern, no matter how good it was, did not warrant pledging your assistance to someone, no questions asked. That was exactly what she had done, though. 

“ _When you need me, trace this symbol onto a sending stone and speak your message to me. I will come and do whatever I can to help you_ .” Three days ago he had sent the distress call. Perhaps she had lied. It made more sense than the gratuitous generosity she had shown. People didn’t _do_ things for nothing in return. He was a fool to have trusted her. He was a fool to have thought she was different. He-

The stone began to hum gently, sliding across the dark wood of the desk towards his hand, almost chasing his grasp. Lorkhan looked at it, staring in both surprise and hesitant wonder. Scarcely able to process, his hand hovered over the stone, nervous. He hadn’t even asked her for anything specific. He had just said his people needed her. He needed her. They just needed _help_. 

He cursed himself a fool. There was no way it would be this easy. Steeling for the inevitable let down, he prepared for a list of demands. Payment in exchange for assistance as he was accustomed to, or flat out refusal: another thing he was cruelly anticipating. With a heavy sigh, he shored his resolve for the task and dropped his hand onto the stone.

“Lorkhan, my friend. It is good to hear you’re still alive,” he snorted humorlessly and felt the ever aching burn of the hole in his chest, “or as alive as you can be with that mark. I’m so sorry if it took me so long to respond. I- well, _we_ were in a time pocket for a few days to...fix something that was off-kilter. When we got back, it turned out we had been gone for two months. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” His eyes narrowed at the words. Lorkhan had found she played this game with people, himself included, where she spouted truth so extreme that it played at being fiction. It was the repressed mischief in her that made her like this, he was sure, but he hadn’t given her the satisfaction of catching him off guard just yet. While her explanation was outlandish, he could tell she was worried, remorseful even, by her tone. 

“I spoke with my companions, and we will need time to get to you.” Her words stopped and he looked at the faintly glowing stone in his hand. Her swirling symbol blushed tentatively back up at him with the same light as the hope her words had given his soul. It was small and diligent, no matter how hard he had tried to stamp it out. 

“How long?” His words were short and clipped. They needed help soon and there was no guarantee they were even on the same continent. She confirmed the fear.

“We’re in Domacia,” his stomach dropped, “so it will take us until at least noon tomorrow, perhaps the evening at the latest to gather our affairs.” Lorkhan’s other hand had begun to rub his face in defeat until she spoke up again. She was going to cross an ocean in a day? Because he asked her to? “We will need something from you, though.” Ah. There it was. The smile on his face was small and cruel and directed only at himself. 

“What do you require?”

“We need you to let us scry you while you walk around your camp. We can’t teleport unless our wizard knows where to teleport to. If we do, bad things will apparently happen.”

Whatever he had been expecting her to ask, that wasn’t it. It stunned him the same way it would have if he had braced for a blow and received a gentle caress in its place. The hope in his heart pulsed a little brighter and he internally snarled at it in response. 

“The Sisters will not allow me to be scried.” There was a pause. 

“He says he can scry someone else based on description if he has a name, but it is far less accurate than if he has seen them in person.”

Lorkhan thought for a moment before offering, “Bahn. My chief advisor. The one with me when we met. You can scry Bahn. I will alert him to it so that he doesn’t fight your wizard’s attempts.”

“Good. Have him walk around wherever you want us to land. The wizard will contact him psionically within the hour to walk him through what he needs.” Lorkhan’s people didn’t use such increments of time, so he needed to cut this short and speak with Bahn now. He had a vague grasp of how long an hour was, but he would rather be sure that this worked than to second guess based on partial knowledge. 

“Consider it done.” He placed the stone on his desk and made to leave when it hummed again. 

“And Lorkhan...How are you? You sound...tired.” His brow furrowed. Why did it matter how he was?

“I haven’t slept.” She fussed over him after that, scolding him about not sleeping as though it were something he had chosen to do to punish himself. Maybe it was. She finally ended her rant by asking if they needed anything. His response was hard and blunt. 

“Food. My people need food.”

“I’ll see what I can do. You know I won’t promise to fix your situation, but I hope you know you have my word that I will do my best. I promise you that I will _try_.” He didn’t expect her to promise the world to him, but it was still nice that she was so forward about what she could do. Most were so afraid of him that they made promises they ultimately couldn’t keep, which he hated, or they refused him flat out. Then there was the pity. He hated when people did things out of pity the most. 

Lorkhan didn’t respond to her, he didn’t feel he needed to. Instead, he had Bahn make the preparations and then handled more of the everpresent flow of day-to-day duties he saw to as a king. He hated it. He wanted nothing more than to level this forest and the kingdoms around it. He knew he could. It was well within his power. The Sisters, the two hags who had raised him, encouraged this. Yet there was this little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like the Little-Elf that told him that it was a fool’s journey and would make more problems than it would solve. He judged the little voice to be wise and had stayed his hand, but he was becoming more and more desperate.

The next day, as promised, a wyvern dropped out of the sky. It startled his people and a few of his remaining huntsmen fired arrows at it that all missed horrendously because of the blinding speed with which the beast flew. It was impressive. It landed and shook the earth at his feet when it did. Abraxos had been its name. He had grown exponentially since Lorkhan had last seen him. Now he was big enough to carry off even Lorkhan’s own massive warhorse. It made the lithe form in the fine saddle on his back look all the more dainty and small at first glance. No one would ever guess that she was the real danger with that wyvern around. 

Alaysia had changed from when he had last seen her. At first, he thought it had only been her hair. Where before it was a deep, traditionally Wood Elf brown, now it was unnaturally white, like that of a High Elf, or that of her elven companion, Oraelia, the Domacian Elf. Her head was so beneath his own that he could look at the top of it easier than he could her eyes. In stark contrast to her white hair, two short, black horns rose from her head and pointed back, like those of a small goat. The rest of her had stayed the same. Her skin was a soft honey color, her eyes were a dark, deciduous green. There was an equally new little drake draped about her shoulders that looked around nervously.

She slid out of the saddle with two centuries of practice and approached him without any regard for his status. Not a care in the world as she approached the Demon King, Alaysia had no more regard for Lorkhan now than she’d had when she bedded him. He'd be a horrible liar if he said he didn’t like that. He was a man to her. Big and powerful, perhaps, but still just a man. When everyone gazed at him like the sweltering sun, her calm, unfazed expression was a shaded oasis in the exposed heat of the desert. 

“My companions will be here shortly. They ended up a mile or so off course and then were attacked by a magic eating slug while I was still in the extradimensional space. The fools didn’t stop to consider that maybe they should let the only one who doesn’t rely on magic out to fight it and nearly got themselves sucked dry.” She huffed in an attempt to expel some of the irritation from her body, “I came ahead to make sure at least one of us made it here on time.” She gave him a smile that almost lit up her sad eyes. 

He knew a little of the sadness she held there. She had told him about it once when he briefly traveled with them, just days after their first encounter at the inn. He’d saved her and her wyvern from a pack of monsters in a cave system by hurling the three of them through the fires of some other plane to teleport them out. The expenditure on his part brought out his truer form, the one with the arching demon’s horns and barred savage fangs, the Obyrith’s form. Rather than running from him as he lay unconscious from the sheer toll it had taken on him, the little creature had propped him against her equally unconscious surrogate son and had drawn him and the wyvern sleeping on a scrap paper. She said it was to show him what he looked like in case he hadn’t known, but she had kept the drawing after. It was...endearing. 

She had offered him information about herself in exchange for the answers he had given when she grilled him about what had happened. She was a sad woman and her wyvern helped alleviate the pain of having lost his namesake, her own son. Now here she was again, prattling on in that way she did when she played her little game with people, trying to get a rise out of him. She eventually gave him an outwardly mischievous smile that masked true concern as her party made it to the clearing. 

“I’ll crack that stoic face of yours one of these days, friend. You wait and see.” She drew the pipe she always carried and packed some tobacco into it from her pouch. It was explained to him that they were here to offer assistance and investigate what he and his advisor thought to be the source of the spell plague. It irritated him because he wanted nothing more than to just leave this place, magical plague be damned, but they insisted. They had to make sure that he wasn’t going to bring something irreversible to the new continent before they left. He would have fought harder but was stopped when Alaysia motioned to three of their number. The Tiefling wizard, his Human female partner, and a male Kobold that reeked of forest magic. 

“They’ve all died once before, so they may be affected by this plague as well. We need to make sure we can fix them when it happens.” He wanted to argue and lash out, ask if they intended to leave them behind on this continent in quarantine if they were infected, but the realization that they willingly exposed themselves to the plague because he had requested her help calmed his temper. If one day at that damned temple over the way was the price for his people’s safety, he could hold off. 

The plan had been to wait until the following morning to investigate the temple but within an hour of being in the camp, the three that Alaysia had pointed out had all one by one fallen to their knees, wracked with pain, only to rise again with the same charred hole somewhere on their bodies. They left immediately with Bahn after that and didn’t return until the evening when Alaysia rode in alone on a noticeably pained and worse for wear wyvern. His people had built great fires to huddle around to help the aches and pains of the curse marks. Alaysia slid from her mount with a tired way about her, rubbing her neck and shoulders in the firelight before summoning a ghostly figure, like a cross between a silver dragon and a dog. The silvery green phantom made laps around Abraxos and with each pass, his wounds closed a little more. He re-entered his tent and waited for her. 

Lorkhan had been particularly distant from her today. He still expected to have some kind of payment exacted from him for her services. After first arriving, her friendly demeanor had flattened to the same gruff seriousness that flavored her other interactions when she was not in _especially_ good spirits or drunk. He had pondered this and concluded while she was away that his brushing her off as she called him a friend, something she rarely did, was probably hurtful. She had shifted, instead, to referring to him by name only, though she wasn’t so irritated as to call him by a title yet. Perhaps, he thought as Alaysia entered the tent with a tired huff, he owed her an apology. 

The little dragon on her shoulders, Lump the Alehouse Drake, flew immediately to his desk and began to talk enough for all three of them about how awful that had been and how he was never going into another temple and continued to ramble on and on. Lorkhan’s eyes were pulled back to Alaysia when she tossed something big and bloody in his direction. It was a severed head, blood still seeping out of the rough hewn base. 

It wasn’t just any head, in fact. It was the head of one of their past party members. The one who had sent him on a wild goose chase and had gotten half his people killed. Lorkhan looked up at her, palming the thing in his large hand. He had intended to kill the fighter himself. Why had he been lingering so nearby?

“This bastard and that temple caused this. He killed three of our number and nearly took my Abraxos, but we were able to revive them before the curse took hold. He was yours by right of vengeance but we had to put him down to get out, so I brought you his head and,” She pulled another thing out of her bag of holding. It was a jar with a fiery blue substance in it, “his mortal soul. It rose up out of him as I’ve never seen happen, but I thought you deserved first claim to it.” Her eyes were tired and worn in an honest way. He had seen glimpses of it before, but this was her without the false chipperness of booze or the effort taken to appear completely collected. It reminded him painfully of himself. 

As she continued speaking, he regarded the head in his hand, ripped forcefully off its body, and took the jar. It satisfied him in an animalistic way and the Sisters would find great joy in the soul. From the entrance of the tent, he saw Alaysia glaring at the still dripping gore he held, hate burning in her eyes. “Crush it,” she whispered so low under her breath he nearly missed it. He stirred at that, pleased in spite of himself. And the look in her eyes, gods, what a treasure she was, it was a _feral_ look. 

Lorkhan strode over to a chest and rummaged through it until he produced a piton and a short rope of a sash. Without a word he placed the head on his desk next to Alaysia’s pet, Lump, and slammed the piton through the skull. The violence frightened the little drake comically back into his mother’s arms. The sash was slipped through the piton’s eye and used to secure the still bleeding head to his belt. It made for a fine, macabre trophy. He turned and lounged into the padded chair at his desk, regarding Alaysia with unreadable eyes. She had her own half scowl of a smile at what he had done, visibly just as pleased as he had been. 

“As for the curse,” her eyes found his own again, “it can be cured but it requires very powerful magic, which is good enough for us. I spoke with the Queen of Domacia and she agreed to assist your people as a favor to me. In a week, her high mages will congregate here and the lands we intend to send you to. They will open a rift and you will walk through it with your people, no boats, no ocean of monsters, no risk. It will be done.” This was more than he could have dared to hope, but she began rummaging in the bag of holding once again. There was more? A muffled clatter was produced as a very fine suit of armor reeking of several magics came out. 

“No one in our party wears heavy armor like this, it's Dwarven.” he knew but let her continue, “there are invulnerability wards on it. Baulderon wore it. We decided to give it to you. You can actually use it and even if you don’t you could probably trade it for items you and your people need.” Lorkhan looked at her for a long moment. She didn’t mind the silence, she didn’t squirm under his gaze. He flicked his hand at the armor and it moved into the open chest of its own accord, the lid gently falling shut and locking itself thereafter. 

Maybe he was waiting for her to fall into his bed, justly assuming she had earned the right. Maybe he was waiting to hear the price of such kindness. He intended to hold his tongue until she was forced to speak her demands or act. It was a method that had served him well in the past. She adjusted Lump on her shoulders like a scaly, nervous cat and finally broke the silence. 

“I need to go hunting to feed my dragons and then find a patch of soft dirt to sleep on. Let me know if you need anything else and I’ll handle it in the morning.” He hadn’t expected her to take a third option and she was already halfway to her wyvern before he had processed her words, rising from his seat to follow her. 

“Alaysia, wait.” His voice left him before his mind could stop it, coming out softer than he intended. Alaysia stopped but didn’t turn around. Her drake glanced back at him and then to her. Gritting his teeth, Lorkhan’s mind raced to produce an adequate follow up. 

“Yes, Lorkhan?” Her head lolled back a bit, resting on Lump’s rotund little body. Perhaps he had hurt her feelings earlier. Perhaps his constant assumption that she wanted something from him had been more discernible than he anticipated. Fuck. What was he supposed to do?

“Thank you,” he managed awkwardly. Lorkhan’s voice was still uncharacteristically soft. She turned to face him, her eyes softer as well as she saw how unsure he was.

“That’s what friends do, Lorkhan. And you don’t have to thank me for keeping my word. That just comes standard with not being a shit person.”

“I suppose I haven’t had the pleasure of being around many people who weren’t shit, then,” he looked around for some way to continue talking. If she could see the thing that was almost panic in his movements, she didn’t call attention to it. “Your wyvern. Is he okay?” He struggled to sound casual. Small talk and informally inquiring after the health of others was not a skill he had been taught growing up. She turned to look at him, but her body still largely faced away so he still couldn’t get an accurate read on her emotions.

“He’ll be fine, just tired and hungry now,” she threw the words over her shoulder indifferently. Easily. Why was this so hard for him?

“That’s good.” 

“Did you need something else?” The question cut him in a way he knew she hadn’t intended it to. She’d crossed an ocean, presented him gifts, even brought him the head of his enemy and was facilitating the mass migration of his people. Alaysia had done nothing but help him since the moment she had laid eyes on him, never asking for anymore than replacing the shirt he had destroyed, which had only been fair.

He was a fool to think she wouldn’t notice his distant behavior. He would have noticed it and Alaysia was more than twice his age. The guilt he felt, unused to caring when he was rude to others, was novel and uncomfortable. He sighed and closed the distance between them, Alaysia only facing him fully when he stepped closer to her than was typical between acquaintances. He didn’t stop until he was standing mere inches away from her, looking down, down, down into those fierce green eyes, curiously reflecting the firelight like a wild animal’s. Had they always done that? He would have noticed last time if they had. What had changed them so? Was it the same thing that had changed the rest of her?

No. This was not the time to ask questions. If he stalled, his nerve would fail him and he might lose his Little-Elf. While her support was integral to saving his people, he didn’t want her to only call him by his name, even informally as she did. He liked when she called him “friend” and played her little game of truths with him. He liked the almost pout she wore when he remained unmoved by her bold but honest claims of riding god-horses and slaying dragons. He liked... _her_. She was genuine. She was honest. She saw what he was and still treated it normally. Just another man, just another person, but also her friend. 

Lorkhan had to stoop to do it, but he gently grasped her arms and lowered his face to hers, resting his forehead against the cool, clammy skin of her own. She was tense and confused just as he was tense and nervous, but he made himself endure it. He had to convey what he wasn’t comfortable doing with words. Lump scampered away to cling to Abraxos’ neck and watch the events unfold. 

When she relaxed into his grip, they both let out a breath that was unintentionally held and leaned into the contact. Eyes closed, silent, there was peace between them amidst the chaos of the worlds, if only for a moment. Alaysia’s arms moved and he went to pull away, intending to let her escape the unexpectedly intimate position. As always, he had assumed wrong about her. She wasn’t running, but rather wrapping her arms around his neck. He started to retreat faster, unsure of the action, but she tugged him back gently. 

Lorkhan could have pulled away. He could have easily overpowered her and removed himself from the hold she had on him, but with her standing here, feeling the warmth that radiated from her against his skin in the humid air, he didn’t want to. And so, he let the little Dragon Elf guide him to her, his face settling in the crook of her neck and his arms hovering at her sides in the unmistakably unsure way that signaled his inexperience. 

He knew what embracing was, of course, but he had only ever embraced others or been embraced by others when in the throes of sex. It was a vulnerable position for both of them, but it was warm. And she was soft. And her grip held him together just as much as it held him to her, giving him a moment, just a single moment, to relinquish that responsibility for himself. The air left his lungs in a long breath with the strain of it all as she held the world up for him. Lorkhan didn’t know when his arms had wrapped themselves around her waist, or when his knee had hit the packed, damp dirt at their feet, but he found himself kneeling before her, vulnerable and content, relishing in the simple embrace as he hadn’t with anyone before. It was good. 

He knew the Sisters would be furious at him having shown such weakness, but he didn’t care. They manipulated him to their own goals as night hags were apt to do, but at the end of the day, he was stronger than they were and they knew that. His people might talk as well, seeing their king take a knee to the minuscule woman, a monster in her own right and their saviour even if they didn’t know it, but he didn’t care. She was soft and she was warm. She was so warm. 

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity before Alaysia loosened her arms, a gentle indication to pull away. His position shocked him when he found himself looking almost eye to eye with the silent huntress, his hands resting on her hips. She stroked the side of his face, pushing back a stray lock of hair that had escaped his impressive braid. That warmth she shared with him in the moments before now tugged the sides of her mouth up gently. It was as genuinely soft a look as he had ever been graced with. 

“I need to feed my dragons, Lorkhan,” her hands caressed his face and held it as though it were something fragile and precious. Perhaps, in this moment, he was. “And you need to rest.” Her lips came forward to meet his forehead in a soft expression of affection. His eyes closed without any input from himself and the gentle transference washed through him. After a moment, he pulled away and stood back up to his impressive, looming height. 

“Bring your drake and your wyvern into my tent. My bed is yours.” He turned and went back into his tent and to his bed, almost falling into it as he replayed the memory of what had just transpired again and again in rapid succession. The whole thing had felt like an eternity, but reality had only spared it a few minutes in its constant march forward. Arm thrown over his face, he didn’t dare look her way when she led a tired Abraxos into the tent. It was only the quiet beckoning of his name that bid him sit up and meet her eyes. 

“You’ve met Lump,” she was holding the aptly named drake out like a cat under his little arms, “Lump, this is Lorkhan. I’ve told you about him. Say hi.” 

He smelled like a tavern and burped, “S’up.”

“I need you to look after him. He’s had a long day that neither of us were prepared for and he doesn’t like to be alone in strange places,” she bounced him a little in her hands, indicating Lorkhan was supposed to accept the grub-shaped lizard. He did so, finding him particularly warm. Like a sloshing belly full of spirits. “He can be quite good company if you let him be.” By the time Lorkhan pulled his eyes away from the alcoholic iguana creature he was holding, Alaysia was at the entrance of his tent. She gave him one last mischievous look, placed a finger over her lips as though hushing a child, and the darkness of the night swallowed her all at once. It gave him a start. 

“Yeah,” Lump rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly for something small enough to sit in the palm of his hand, “She does that a lot.” He was also looking after her fondly before turning an unimpressed gaze back to Lorkhan. “So you’re that other guy from the tavern she talked about,” Lump lifted a scaly brow, “would you eat me if I asked what her deal is with big men? I just don’t see it.”

He hoped she came back to him soon. 

* * *

Two hours passed before Alaysia found her way back to Lorkhan. It was late and her bones were aching like an old woman’s. She’d bagged six of the little deer creatures of this continent. When she drew open the tent and stepped in, her Dragonmark or her newly discovered heritage one relinquishing its veil of shadows and allowing her to be seen, she found Lorkhan in his bed. Lump was dozing, sprawled up and down his chest like he did when he slept with Alaysia. The sight made her smile. 

Lorkhan was still awake and gazing intently down at a scarlet bound book that was a few shades off of his waist-length mane. She wanted to chide him about not sleeping but couldn’t find the energy to do so. Instead, she picked her way to the massive bed in that silent way she always moved. It was made to comfortably fit his hulking body, so the darkly shimmering navy sheets and billowy materials formed a veritable sea to her in which Lorkhan was the only land in sight. Alaysia wasted no time plopping herself down in the spot he had left for her at his side. Abraxos stirred and crept towards her, eagerly eyeing her bag as she slipped it off her shoulder and produced one of her kill from it. For Lump, she produced a ration: he didn’t like raw meat. The rest of the deer she offered to Lorkhan, who sat up, sending an indignant Lump tumbling and grumbling as he was forced to take his dinner to Lorkhan’s desk to finish eating. 

“You took that many in just the time you were gone?” She shrugged in response.

“Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s impressive. Most of my hunters bring in that amount after a full day’s work.” He sounded impressed, which fanned her pride. 

“I’ll do what I can to bolster their hunt tomorrow. I’m sorry we can’t stay long, but we need to return to Domacia and begin attending our other problems.” She rubbed her face in a familiar way at the thought of all there was to be done before looking him over. 

Lorkhan had long since abandoned his shirt and, from what she could tell, the rest of his clothing as well. Alaysia, not one to be cowed away from comfort, began loosening the heights of the soft-soled riding boots she wore. The laces started at her knees, so it was a process to remove them. She tended to the rest of her clothes afterward until she was just as nude as he was. 

Now that he was sober and she was again bare before him, she watched his eyes take in the Dragonmark, now more intricate and far larger. Where it had once claimed her shoulder, it now danced from her nape all the way down her spine and then a bit more, lapping at the top of one of her smooth buttocks and wrapping its tendrils around her right side as well. Her left flank was dominated by what looked like a skull with an eyepatch over its left eye. Two crossed swords jammed through it, and there was an unmistakably Orcish distended jaw, baring the characteristic tusks of the race. It looked like a pirate’s flag. Words in a language he didn’t understand circled it like a creed.

When she hiked her leg up onto the bed, the centuries of jockeying wyverns leaving it pleasantly toned and thick, he found the fierce amethyst eyes of a black wyvern glaring at him. Up the outer side of her leg, the serpentine dragon clung to her body like a tree. Its head was turned back away from its living anchor to show a full hood of colors ranging from purple to rival its eyes to bright yellows and greens in a cobra-like show of aggression. Scars wrought its body through the sales in great detail, far more lifelike than the other tattoos she bore. This one must have been done by an Elvish Inkweaver. 

Lorkhan didn’t comment on them, but rather watched the way they moved with her as she crawled into bed. The soft light of the embers in his personal fire pit and the two remaining candles showed the picked scars of a lifetime raising her preferred mounts and just as much time riding them into combat, but her honeyed skin still looked so soft. If Alaysia noticed his wandering eyes, she ignored them. 

Her breasts, heavy and large, even by the standards of much bigger women, moved gently with her breath as she settled herself under the blankets. The silky fabrics draped about her in a pleasant, almost alluring way, accentuating her flared hips and the dip of her waist. Soft, green eyes twinkled like a great cat just outside a protective ring of firelight, capturing his own gaze in a lazily demanding way. It was a picture he’d gladly give a ransom for if any artist could capture it just as it was in this instant so that he could savor it for an eternity. In the end, Lorkhan knew this moment was all that life’s cruelty would afford him though, so he drank in every detail. 

She pulled the blanket up over her breasts and sighed, laying on her side facing towards him. She didn’t sleep but rather utilized the trance state her people could substitute for true rest, so he knew that she wouldn’t nod off immediately, even if she looked like she wanted to. He’d half expected her to petition him for sex as payment. He wouldn’t have minded, but when she shuffled closer she didn’t crawl on top of him or drop her hands below his waist like he expected her to. Instead, her small digits, calloused from the years spent honing her archery that stretched longer than his own lifetime, traced around the hole burned into his chest from the curse. When they drew uncomfortably close to the inexplicable dark void within it, his hand found hers and held it at bay.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, drawing back. Her wrist slipped through his fingers and left his hand empty, but she moved even closer to him, tugging at his shoulders and drawing him down and close as she had outside. When his head rested on the firm plane of her chest, just above the valley created by her breasts, she began to pull at the rest of him. Alaysia didn’t stop until he was resting bodily between her legs, his chest level with her abdomen and her hands caressing and massaging at knots in his back and shoulders as he lay over her on his stomach. The position should have been sexual in nature, but she gave no indication that such was expected. Instead, she hummed a tune low under her breath, as though soothing a child. 

Lorkhan was tense as she held him. She could feel the unease and the worry in his muscles, but she kept right on, humming a tune she had sung to her dead lover over a hundred and fifty years ago. His dark skin was littered with a myriad of his own scars, large and small, from his battles through his past eighty-odd years. He needed to rest and she was willing to do whatever her friend needed to help him achieve that. When he asked what she was doing, she told him that. He was quiet for a long time after, relishing her presence and her calming hands as he was cradled against her small body. 

“This feels,” He struggled for any other word, but the same one he had felt since she had arrived was the only thing that came to mind.

“Warm,” she sighed, stealing the word from him before he could voice it himself. “It feels warm.”

“Yes.” Lorkhan sighed into the space between her collarbones and looked at the soft skin of her throat for a long time. 

Vague memories, he was loath to admit he hadn’t remembered much come the next morning, of a night months ago rose to the surface. The way that skin had moved as her lips formed his name. The bite of her sharp nails and sharper little fangs buried in his skin while he was buried in her. He had wanted her to proposition him for sex again, even if he hadn’t remembered much. That was the way of things. Men and women fell into his arms, promised him a night of great pleasure, delivered something that passed as enjoyable for him, and then he was rid of them or he gave them the opportunity again and they jumped on it. 

Not her, though. Alaysia gave as good as she got, if not better, even with him. He had laid strong enough invitations, he had thought. Inviting her into his bed, waiting for her naked and lounging, prime for her to crawl atop him and start the night’s events. The churning in the pit of his stomach, summoned by pleasant thoughts and hazy memories, thrashed a bit and urged him on. She wasn’t going to proposition him, he knew. The Little-Elf had left the dragons in her soul to rest while she cared for him it seemed, but he wanted them. They were as much a part of her as her warm hands and her soft breasts and her strong legs. And Lorkhan? He wanted all of it. 

Lorkhan lazed through the parade of vague sexual recollections and fresh thoughts concerning the Little-Elf. He had been _sore_ the day after they had coupled last time. Sore. He couldn’t remember a time that he had felt worn out by his bed partners, not even when they came and went in groups, but he _limped_ out of bed the next day. She had stolen his shirt, his intimidating stature and influence be damned, she’d had a point to prove about him destroying her shirt. She expected him to fully toe the line of the boundaries she had set just like she would any bed partner. He couldn’t decide if her regarding him as she would any other bed partner was refreshing in its lack of reverence or if it was insulting to his pride. 

And that hazy time in which he’d been shaken awake the next morning. He remembered a soft voice and a gentle hand rousing him to consciousness, pulling him out of whatever nightmare had haunted him that night. _Lorkhan. Are you okay? You looked like you were having a bad dream or I would have let you sleep._ A stark contrast to the beast she had been the night before. Alaysia was all soft edges and slow, gliding movements that morning. She had even reassured _him_ when he groggily expressed concern at having spilled his seed in her. She had a rune for that, given by some church of a love goddess she’d happened upon in her travels. _I have no intention of playing broodmare, not even for someone that’s as fine a lay as yourself._ She just made problems disappear when she was around. She made everything easier just by existing.

Alaysia was still humming, eyes closed and hands now undoing the last few overlaps of his rope of red hair and massaging his scalp when she felt him stir against her. She’d been hoping in the half-hour they’d been laying there that he had fallen asleep and chided him for not resting right up until he was looming over her and his lips were on hers. 

It furrowed her brow, but the big, rough hand tracing with uncharacteristic delicacy down the skin of her side was pleasant enough of a distraction that she didn’t complain even as that hand kept going and ran out of skin on her flank. It shifted across her hip, caressing down her leg until it was hooked in the crook of her knee and moved it around him. She sighed into the kiss and he pulled away, resting his forehead on hers as he had earlier, eyes closed. His hair was a vibrant curtain spilling around them, longer even than hers. 

“Let me repay you,” he breathed the words to her, “please.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Lorkhan,” Firm, but gentle. Like the hand she stroked his big shoulder with, pushing against him lightly to indicate he wasn’t expected to continue, but not hard enough to be a complete rebuff. 

“Then let me gift you this moment, Alaysia.” Lorkhan’s eyes opened and found hers staring into him, hesitant. 

“You need rest.” He had never wanted to throttle someone and pull them against him in a soft embrace at the same time before, but he suspected that this was what it was to have someone he cared about and-

Did he care about her?

Alaysia’s hand combed through his hair, her brow drawn lightly. She was frustrated that he wouldn’t sleep for his own good, he knew. Her eyes flicked across his face and her lip was pursed just so and yes. He did care about her. He’d be a fool not to. If not for himself, then for his people. She started to chastise him once more and Lorkhan lowered himself to her lips again with a rumble in his chest. 

“Fine, woman. Let _me_ have this moment, then.” The words were low and soft when he parted from her just enough to whisper them into the air between them. He could have sworn he heard her growl up at him in response. The beasts in her belly were finally waking up and they were blessedly, mercifully hungry. 

“If you insist.”


	2. Little Miracles (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smutty finish to this part of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted my draft instead of my finished work whoops :/ Sorry about that. This is the final draft with the post scene.

Alaysia had wanted to sleep with him, oh yes. He was an excellent lay, arguably the best she’d had, but she’d wanted to help him. That meant rest. The way that he pressed into her, though, stroking up and down her body with deceptive attention to the places he knew made her lean into his touch. It made it hard to be responsible on his behalf. So her lips pushed into his and the carnal hunger she’d muzzled upon their arrival came snarling to the surface. 

She let it wash through her, drowning the ever-looming depression in the fires of lust, dousing her worries in the flames that licked at her the same way his tongue teased the stinging bites he trailed across her shoulder until he hit that spot that made her want to fling herself away and melt into him at the same time. He knew just how much pressure to use. It was enough to make her hiss in pain and pulse in need. Gods, she loved the way he just _knew_. 

Not one to be outdone, Alaysia moved in tandem with him. Her hands laced through his thick, vibrant hair just next to the scalp and pulled a rumbling growl from him with a firm grip. Her other leg joined the first, wrapping around his hips and pulling herself to him in a hold not dissimilar to the way she held herself in the saddle of her wyvern. Lorkhan liked the way it felt, how she clung to him almost desperately, fervently. 

Their hands moved with the experience born of decades and countless partners, good and bad, searching again for those little places that pulled those little sounds. No hum or whisper or murmured praise was ignored until those little sounds became bigger, more desperate calls. Lorkhan gripped the globe of soft flesh on her chest, playing at the peak with cruel fingers that pulled anything but complaints from her as she writhed her hips against him, too high up to grind into his aching need but he didn’t care. 

Alaysia did, however. She wanted to hear those rich moans she knew he hid deep down in his chest, reserved for when she found particularly sensitive places on his body or surprised him with something enjoyable he hadn’t had time to brace himself for. She may not be able to catch him off guard in conversation but in bed, she was more than capable of stealing his breath. It was quickly becoming a favorite pastime of hers. 

She dropped a leg, still holding herself firmly in place with the other in an impressive display of her inhuman dexterity, and placed it so that her thigh was caressing his erection. The soft skin of her body rubbed against him and the unexpected friction caused a hitch in his breathing that made her smile. 

In retaliation, he dipped his head and sank those sharp teeth of his into her breast, tongue lashing the nipple to drive a breathless sound into the humid air. Her leg abandoned stroking him to squeeze him again at the feeling. He kept at it, trusting his wandering hands and teeth and tongue to keep her under control. Lorkhan hadn’t quite remembered their previous, drunken bedroom brawl until she had executed her attack, so he had little to prepare himself. 

The leg the little elf had dropped before slipped down again as he moved his mouth from one area to another and drove into the bed with a force he didn’t realize she had possessed. Silently, with all the control she exerted when handling the great scaled beasts her family cultivated for war, she had herself perched on his back, chuckling into the top tip of his spine in a way that made him feel like a beast himself with the way the hair on his body rose at the sound. Alaysia’s legs were clasped at his sides forcefully and she had a hand knotted in his hair again to draw his head back to her, slipping that wicked tongue down the shell of his ear.

“I don’t know, Lorkhan. Maybe you should sleep? Tired horses make poor mounts.” The coy twist of her voice was punctuated by a firm nip at the sensitive skin below his earlobe. She would pay for that. Or so he thought. 

When his arm came back to pluck her from his back, she managed to slip under it. When he reached further to catch her, he found her suddenly wrapped around his arm with some limb or another that he couldn’t see. He’d stretched too far and the angle robbed him of his strength. She gave him no time to brace himself and wrenched him to the side, controlling his torso through his captured arm and manipulating her lower body so that he rolled beneath her until she sat atop his stomach, victorious. Lorkhan saw similar images from their previous night together spring forward. 

“How?” He didn’t have time to finish before she was rubbing herself against his erection. His previous words were cut off with garbled lines of sound that resembled a question in inflection but bore no similarity to any spoken language save for a few curses. Her hand pressed him against her and tugged his shaft in time with her hips, working a slow, even pace. 

“Come on now, you can do better than that, _your highness_ .” The title was said playfully with all the reverence of a jab at a friend. It still made him mutter and growl at her. He wasn’t angry, but she was right. He was a _king_ godsdamnit. 

When he lunged up at her, she swung out of the way, using her legs to anchor him and throw him off balance. Giggling like a maid, smiling like a fox, he found himself beneath her again, having only rotated to the foot of his bed. Alaysia was enjoying herself so thoroughly that she did it again the next time he lurched and once again after that, still trying to steal the reins of control. 

Lorkhan lay beneath her, winded slightly and miffed at the little beast perched atop him. She was a falcon that had pinned an eagle to the ground using his own hubris and her cool, deft movements. She laughed in full now. It was a wonderful sound, like the jubilant call of a bird or the pleasant toll of a bell. Her eyes, smiling with the rest of her face for once, just for him, flickered down at him in simple joy. She was having fun and the childish glee tugged at his own face. Exhaustion and pressing duties and starving nation, none of them could touch him right now. 

Alaysia put her hands on his chest and leaned down to press a kiss into his mouth with lightning speed so that she could pull out of his grip when he tried to catch her against him. She was going to let him win in a moment, but not yet. When he lunged again, she adjusted herself and used his own strength and speed against him once more. Once again she landed astride him, the victorious rider atop her snarling steed. 

She was so focused on the game they were playing that she wasn’t prepared for when his hands changed tactics. Instead of lunging up at her or rolling his body in an effort to pin her, his grip darted to her legs. A yelp rose up as she found herself upended. His fingers dug into her thighs as he looked down at her. Alaysia, for her part, didn’t look as surprised at the sudden shift as he had expected, even though she was nearly hanging from his grasp, upside down and arched like a bow. He caught her calves under his arms and held her there with her lower back braced against his broad chest. The warm heat of her was exposed to him and no amount of squirming could free her. 

“I caught you.” He used her words from their first night, one of the few memories that had well and truly ingrained itself into his memory. She smiled, looking for all the world as though it had been her who had said it this time, too. 

“Is that so?” 

Rather than respond to the words she quoted back, he sank his teeth into the flesh on the inside of her thigh and was met with a peeling gasp that echoed in his chest, two octaves lower. Oh gods above and below, oh she liked this and so did he. 

He pulled a hickey to the surface of what he held in his teeth and then did it again on the other side and she squeezed him like she wanted to press the air from his lungs and arched her back like one of the gymnast performers that had once danced for him in his court. He’d bedded half of them too, but they didn’t squeal in delight if he lost himself in the moment and bordered on too rough. They didn’t beg in breathless gasps to _grab_ **_harder_ **, but his little Alaysia did and he gratuitously complied. 

Working his way up, Lorkhan made his way to the real prize. Flicking the warmth there with his tongue made her hum pleasurably. The angle let him gaze down at her as she tossed her head and wrung the dark fabrics of his bed. His hands relinquished the grip he had on her thighs, crushing to a lesser bedmate but ecstasy to his Little-Elf, and moved to her waist so he could hoist her sex up to his lips. 

Alaysia heard herself keen when he drove down into her with his mouth. Gods, she had _lusted_ after that tongue of his since they parted before. It was thick and hot and he alternated between lavishing her entire sex with broad, sweeping laps and short, pointed probes into her tunnel and smooth circles around her clit. It was glorious and mind-numbing, but not so much so that she forgot him in all the pleasure. Alaysia hung from his hands as he curled over her, not leaving her many options but she had her flexibility and her imagination, both as powerful as any weapon when in bed. 

Steeling herself against the assault of pleasure that he was shunting into her core, she arched her back further. It took her a moment to get the right angle and it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but the way he nearly choked on his surprise as his cock slipped past her lips was well worth it. She couldn’t bob her head to sustain his pleasure from her suspended position, so she suckled at him and pumped the rest in her fist, gripping his hip to help sustain her sexual gymnastics. 

The position was ludicrous and would have been impossible if he hadn’t been so large and strong and she so small and flexible, but it worked. Lorkhan looked down the planes of her abdomen, mouth rewarding her for her ingenuity by lashing the place in her he remembered made her scream. He took in the view of her sinfully large breasts heaving in the night air with their movements and nearly purred at the thought of how else he would make them bounce tonight. 

Alaysia rewarded his actions with an encouraging sound, muffled by his length, and slipped her leg from where he’d had it pinned so that she could hook it around his head and draw him closer. Selfless though she tried to be in bed, right now she had decided that she needed that tongue far more than he needed to breathe. To Lorkhan’s credit, he didn’t shy away. Instead, he seemed to draw her more forcefully into him. The way it felt as his big hands planted his bruising fingers into her skin was divine. It pushed the pleasure into her core like a lion being backed into a cage. Gods, maybe it was the blood rushing to her head as she writhed in his grasp or maybe it was those resonating little sounds of pleasure he let out as he _ravaged_ her, but she felt her pleasure sprinting towards that peak faster than she knew how to control it. 

Her response to the blazing feel of him as it thrashed through her veins was to reward his enthusiasm as best she could. Somewhere in her bucking and thrusting against him, she steadied her torso enough to slip his shaft further into her hot mouth, pressing the rod past the ring of muscle that protected the entrance to her throat. With him almost hilted in her mouth, she began to swallow and hum, stimulating him without movement in an alien way. The convulsing movements threatened to overwhelm him and Lorkhan pulled back just long enough to let out a harsh, surprised gasp that was kindling to the inferno building in her contorted form. 

Lorkhan only just managed to draw her orgasm out first by suddenly shifting and planting his thumb in her core while he sucked her clit and circled it with his tongue. The position gave her no escape and his own hot, sticky finish spilling into her throat only encouraged him further. The sound of her as she was caught between muffled screaming in pleasure and forcefully swallowing his seed was not something that he thought he would ever forget in his infinite lifetime. 

The muscles from Alaysia’s stomach to her toes rolled in what was at first jubilant celebration and then pleasurable torture. She had been told by various clerics that to look upon one of the gods of Celestia in their true form was dangerous because the sheer splendor of it could tear you apart. She never much cared for the superstition but the way that Lorkhan steadily increased the weight of his tongue against her, the pull of his lips as he suckled that most sensitive spot, the way he slipped his digit deeper into her sodden core to massage the small area of ecstasy hidden there as well? It summoned waves of pleasure that should have only lasted a second or two and drew them out, doubling, tripling the average time she was allowed such bliss. It progressively grew and grew in intensity until she was half struggling to get away from it and half bucking her hips into him for more. If looking upon the divine was anything like this, she might have to give weight to what the clerics had said. 

Even so, she wasn’t sure if she was screaming. She couldn’t hear it through the pounding of the blood in her ears if she was and if he was howling back down at her, she’d have only had the way his body shuttered and quaked as she swallowed his orgasm before she choked on it to give her any indication. Neither one stopped until they’d both breached what their bodies could accept by way of pleasure and moved the excess into something that was almost pain. As Lorkhan fell back into the mattress, Alaysia freed his member from her mouth so she didn’t torque her neck or hurt him with her delicately savage teeth. They lay there like that for several long, breathless seconds. Her head rested on his thigh and his hands had slipped down from his perspective, moving from her hips to rest on her heaving ribs. They weren’t still for long. 

Alaysia turned to the side to lap at his messy, half risen shaft, cleaning off what she hadn’t been able to when they fell apart. The fast, light laps were alternated with slow, wide-tongued, languid licks and boiled the blood in his veins. Lorkhan swore at the still sensitive pleasure in his body and sat up, doing what he’d meant to do in the first place. 

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to do when he rose beneath her. Maybe a swat on the behind, another of those delectable bone-crushing grips of his? What she hadn’t anticipated was his hand closing around one of her newly grown and freshly forgotten horns. She’d only had the things for maybe three days now and yelped when he touched them, one hand grabbing his wrist above her head and the other latching onto his hip to stabilize herself. The shock of it allowed Lorkhan to drag her head back as he dragged her body about, manipulating it until she was kneeling with her legs spread so wide across his lap that her knees hovered inches above the feathered mattress. 

Lorkhan’s erection, coming back with a vengeance as he tested the strangely complete control the little handhold he’d claimed gave him over her movements, was nestled in the valley of that _fucking perfect ass_ . His other hand slipped down to fondle the pliant flesh of her, caressing the planes of it. He traced that sweet little fold where her legs rose to meet it and retreated briefly to land once again with a resounding _smack_ that sent titillating little vibrations across her bottom to where his cock rested at its center. Her body jerked with the force he had put behind the playful blow and he would have thought he’d accidentally struck a bit too hard if she hadn’t given such a breathless curse in response. 

Oh. He liked this. He liked this a lot.

When he told her as much, she huffed, clearly unused to having her power taken from her in such a way that she wasn’t still exercising indirect control over the situation. She tried to pull out of his grip and failed several times before grumbling in response to his deep, dark chuckling and waiting for his next move. All the while, his hand rubbed the reddened silhouette it had left on the top of that glorious round of flesh and he tilted his hips back and forth, rubbing himself further into the cleft of her ass. Alaysia, for all her bravado, was silent for once. He waited until she had sagged in silent, pouting defeat, having finally been truly and inarguably caught for perhaps the first time in over a century. 

Drawing her back, he lightly traced the tip of his tongue over the point of her Elven ear, only just touching her. When she tried to lean into it, the ungiving hold on her horn swallowed any movement her head could have made, rerouting it back to her hips so they bucked helplessly. The sharp, sweet sound she made sent a flood of memory back to him. If there was any single detail he had forgotten from their last encounter, that noise that she made brought it back to him. He would hear that keening gasp from her again, the one that had shot him square in the chest before. He would make her sing his name in that delicate voice of hers again. 

The thoughts crashed through him like a band of wild horses and he fell to that most basic of the Obyrith’s instincts. The urge to dominate, raw and powerful, settled its gaze on her arching body with only just enough of his control left over to savor what he intended to do. It ran through his head in the blink of an eye, less as structured words and more as broad, sweeping urges with clear cut meaning to none but himself. The chuckle turned to a laugh that promised tears and wails and other wild things that danced on the edge of that blade that rested between pleasure and pain. The hot breath of it was a stark contrast to the chilling night air and it made her shift in anticipation. His answer was another stinging slap that sent her ass to jiggling and her chest to heaving. 

Alaysia wasn’t used to being so utterly fettered, but the solid pressure on her skull that resulted when she tried to fight against the hold on her horn superseded any control over her own muscles she had. It was a wordless feeling that she had no way to fight against. If it had been anyone else, she might have still stood a chance of wrestling her power back. Now that Lorkhan had her just where he wanted her, judging by the hot pillar of flesh that almost seemed to pulse right before his hand would make contact with her backside, she doubted there would be any escape until he was finished. The thought was as erotic as it was infuriating. His free hand wrenched hers from its death grip on his hip and guided her hand to his cock. 

“Line it up, my Little-Elf.” That wicked tongue flicked her ear and she felt his head dip to watch her as she grasped him. Lorkhan snarled when she pumped him once and stopped. 

“Why should I?”

“ _Now_.” His lips and those teeth of his, sharp as sin, were back against her sensitive ear. She wanted to defy him, to show she was still in control, but when she hesitated for too long figuring out how, his hand came down on her again, interrupting her thoughts just long enough for her to have no defense against the bite he planted on the space where her neck connected with the posterior-most part of her shoulder. Her back arched and she cried out as she felt the resulting drop of blood ooze from the vicious attack and slide sluggishly down her back like a warm finger. Alaysia dropped his shaft and the nails of her other hand clawed into the wrist she still held above her. 

“I would say ‘don’t make me tell you again,’ but part of me hopes you will,” Lorkhan rumbled low in his chest and gave her a moment to mull over his words as he stroked the whelp his hand had left on her ass and licked at the trail of blood he’d drawn by happy accident. The sting of her skin where his teeth had pierced her might have made her wince at any other time, but right now it just made her sex pulse. 

When she felt herself shift a little to take some of the pressure off her horn, the feeling of a lazy, slow drip from the apex of her thighs had her bracing herself. She knew he’d feel it and no more than half of her hoped she was ready for what it would cause. The other half wanted to be wrecked by the havoc it would bring. She was almost disappointed when all she got was an appreciative rumble.

“I won’t ask again,” he licked up from the savage bite to her ear, pausing to nip the lobe before continuing to journey up to the tip of her ear where he teased it harshly between his teeth. Alaysia growled at him and moved to take her own pleasure from her clit. Her fingers had only just brushed over it when her hand was snatched away. She shuddered, open-mouthed and unsure of how to respond. “If I have to, I’m more than capable of making sure you spend the rest of this night _right_ ,” he snapped at her ear and pinned her arm under his own against her own body, hand moving forward on a single minded mission, “on the _edge_ ,” a cruel hand clawed a harsh grasp into her breast, squeezing and rolling it, “of finishing. So I do not recommend doing that again.” 

It was as horrifying a threat as she could think of in the moment so after a brief hesitation she had him in her hand again and was writhing in his lap as she tried to move the lengthy thing into alignment with her own needy core. Her legs were already shaking slightly when she tried to support her weight from the intense pleasure she had received earlier and the promise of more to come gave her chills. 

Her thighs flexed, instinctually trying to grasp at the body between them and she felt his eyes taking in every movement. When she had almost had him aligned with her slick, he slipped out of her grip, sending the head of his cock sliding across her entrance cruelly and nearly making her jerk out of her own skin at the feeling. The callousness in the responding laugh behind her did nothing to help the lewd wetness the situation had sown between her legs. 

Unable to adequately reach him to attempt to reposition, she only succeeded in rubbing him against her folds more, teasing herself further until her hand fell away to brace herself against him as she panted. Lorkhan was enraptured by the scene, only wishing he’d had a mirror at the foot of the bed so he could see the look on her face. He imagined the tortured pleasure, how it would make her plump lips, still swollen from sucking him off earlier, hang open in a silent, unending gasp for air as her lidded eyes fluttered with his every minute shift against her wet heat. The image he painted wasn’t far from the truth. 

“That’s a good Little-Elf,” he stroked down her exposed flank, rubbed across the top of her thigh, and hovered over her sex in an infuriating way that made her produce the most delectable little cry of irritation. “You seem to be a bit…tied up at the moment. I can see how badly you want it, that wonderful release. I can help you finish the job if you like.” The irritated sound evolved into a brutal snarl.

“Lorkhan, I will get you back for this. I hope you know that. It might not be tonight, but you will beg me for release.” Her voice was divine. Breathless, wanton, salacious to his ears. 

“Now there’s an idea,” he shifted his face from one side of her to the other, now stalking the point of her other delicate ear, “ask nicely and I’ll fill you with more pleasure than you can stand and when you fall apart, _I’ll do it again_.” Her breathing hitched and there was no response, so he moved his hand further between her legs, shifting himself to rub against her entrance with every subtle shift. A scarcely restrained keening noise rose from her and her spine curved like the neck of a harp. Oh, the symphonies she would sing in his name under his skilled hands tonight.

Her hips shifted of their own accord, begging for with her movements what her pride would not let be spoken aloud just yet. Lorkhan felt the grin he wore as he relished the fact that she was almost there. Just a little nudge, one he supplied by lowering his controlling grasp on her less than an inch and letting his tip just _barely_ slip into the soaked core of his catch, was all it took. Alaysia was caught between screaming and panting and he just held her there, only allowing her to rut herself against the barest hint of him until she sagged, helpless, and limp in his grasp, on the verge of sobbing she was so frustrated. 

“Fine.” The bite of her words was lost in the high pitched, desperate whisper of her tone, “Just do it. Fuck me, for the love of hell. Just goddamn do it.” While it was music to his ears to hear, it wasn’t the song he’d asked of her. He dipped her down another fraction of an inch, making her whole body tense in anticipation before pulling her back up and off. She did sob this time.

“That was neither asking nor polite.” Lorkhan rubbed his face into her hair, enjoying the scent of her. Leather, sweat, and ungodly arousal. When her frantic breathing returned to a more manageable clip, he heard her curse in- was that abyssal? He sighed triumphantly. 

“Please,” the word was hissed with venom that could give her wyvern a run for his money, “will you stop playing around like a boy who just discovered his own dick and _Fuck. Me_ .” She could feel his eyes narrow and added, “ _Please_?” in a sickly sweet voice. It seemed to appease him and she nearly cried in relief when he began shifting his grip on her.

“You will go down slowly, Little-Elf. I want to watch you drip down my cock like a cheap whore, do you hear me?” Alaysia gave him a futile nod that came out motionlessly. “If I feel like you move too quickly, we start over.” The note of protest she gave was the first of the song he’d been patiently composing. His own vicious need, carefully ignored until now, was suddenly upon him and he hoped for the both of them that she could just do what she was told without a fight for once. 

She couldn’t. It took two attempts in which she tried to hilt him in one fast movement and that he’d had to stop halfway and drag her back up from before she seemed to finally shatter in his hands. It started with a breathless little “okay” which she then repeated again and again like a mantra. As he loosened her grip and she carefully lowered herself onto him with shaky movements. Once she was impaled on him and shivering with the effort it had taken to do it in such a torturous manner, she fell forward, breathing as though she’d just broken the surface of water she’d spent far too long under. 

Lorkhan could not tear his eyes from her. Not from the time she had given that first little “okay” and certainly not now as she was spread across him, quivering at his touch. Everything in him stopped for just an instant as the limit of his control was met, strained, and torn apart. His hands were at the junction of her hips and legs, planting bruises into them that made her jump. Before a sound could leave her throat, he’d slid her up the bed and shoved her face into one of the soft pillows in a show of domination. It made him bubble with glee and burn with arousal he could no longer control. He loomed over her and gave one last warning.

“Bite the goddamn sheets, my Little-Elf, or I’ll have the next kingdom over hearing my name come off your lips.” The force with which he drew out of her and slammed back in was enough to shake himself, her, the bed, and what remained of their collective sanity. By the third thrust, the only word she knew was his name. By the fifth, her body was the only thing in the world he could comprehend. She met each desperate stroke he gave her with an equally frantic one of her own. Her chest pressed into the bed as the hand that had pushed her face into the pillow now ground into her shoulder for leverage. His other had remained planted against her hip to make sure the angle stayed just as it was so he could rut into her unfettered. 

Alaysia came, screaming something that might have been his name or might have just been the hapless keening of a madwoman. Her ears rang and her tunnel seized around him like a warm vice that, as he thrusted, only wound tighter and spasmed more wildly. For a moment, Lorkhan couldn’t breathe; she was crushing him so. If it hadn’t been for how obscenely wet she’d been, he doubted he’d have been able to move, but he did. As her grip on him reached its apex, he followed the most carnal of instincts he had and heaved himself into her, hands both dragging her against him so that he could pour every last drop of his seed as deeply into her as he could manage. 

Her own orgasm fading, the force of it made her cry out before the sheer pressure he was using to hold them together began to trap some of his ejaculate within her, making his already thick, unforgiving cock begin to feel like too much. Her heat was still spasming from the first orgasm when the sensation of it and the realization of where that too-full feeling was coming from tore another orgasm through her body, this one fast and hard and choppy, that made her vision go white. 

Lorkhan felt it too and cursed thoroughly and foully enough for both of them, holding on just long enough for that wave of pleasure to fade as well before his grip faded, taking with it the rest of his strength. He fell forward over her, only just managing to roll to the side so he didn’t crush her beneath him. The bed was a mess. The blanket they had performed on top of was so soaked with the aftermath it would have to be thrown to the floor. All that would have to wait, though, until their skeletons had reformed and their minds had regained enough control over their muscles to act on it. It took a while. 

“Alaysia?” He was breathless as he said it.

“Yes, Lorkhan?” So was she.

“I want,” he paused to swallow back his beating heart and breathe in deeply in an attempt to stave off his panting, “I want to have you in as many ways as there is to have a woman. When I’m done, I want to find new ways.” That peeling, now exhausted laugh sounded through the air again as she rolled to face him, curling into his chest. Her green eyes looked up at him with the promise of mischief. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought he’d snuck one of the fae courts’ members into his bed, with her snow-white hair and cute little horns. 

So small, so fierce. She’d moved mountains for he and his people and she was already in the process of moving more. Every time he found himself in her presence, he saw a little more of her. He was gifted with just a bit more light on his dark, lonely pedestal. She reached up to touch his face, the bite on her shoulder still bleeding slightly, mixing with the sweat of her exertion. It must have stung. 

She was beautiful. She was his. She was a little miracle. 

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

His own little miracle.

* * *

Alaysia had finally left the bed several hours and several rounds of messy, loud coupling later. Her morning was spent in the forest, passing over the wildlife there like a spectre of death. By the time the sun was at its highest and her party returned, they found her with a small mountain of various animals she had found. She’d taken so many from the surrounding forest that Abraxos had needed to make trips to and fro, carrying loads under him in a net to the waiting hunters who had bled, skinned, and began butchering them. There were thirty-six of them in all. The image of them all was impressive, but there were thousands upon thousands of mouths to feed, so her contribution made little impact in her eyes. 

It didn’t matter, though. Lorkhan saw how the people watched her, now back at the camp helping butcher the precious food she’d brought them. It took a little of the weight off of his hunters. She had left her long sleeved, billowy cotton shirt hanging on one of the tanning racks in favor of a sleeveless tunic that one of his people had lent her. 

Bloodied up to her elbows, a few people wandered about, eying her work with hungry looks but not daring to do much more than to ask for the meat. She hated having to turn them away, but he had told her to turn it all over to the teams he’d set up to cook and distribute food amongst them. It was hard, but fair.

Children watched her too as she carved through her catch, body by body. Some hour or so before, she had started singing sea shanties, occasionally casting minor illusions to add to the theatrical stories the songs told. The one she sang now was about a ghost ship that had lured in another vessel and was hunting it to harbor. From time to time she would turn to address the children, a bright look in her eye as she moved with sweeping movements and fanciful excitement. It made them laugh with glee as she continued acting out the songs. 

Maybe, he braved the immediate fear of the thought, just maybe. Maybe she really was going to do it. Maybe she really would end up pulling off her grand scheme, becoming a saviour to them all. Maybe, through her, the universe was going to answer his long abandoned pleas to just give him a chance. Yes, maybe she was the miracle he’d given up looking for. 


End file.
